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“Essentially trying to hone what might be 100,000 word novels into 50 word epigrams, trying different genres, playing with form , conceit, experimenting with…are we connecting here?…you seem to have glazed over somewhat.”

“I’m afraid, if you haven’t found a genuine job within a fortnight we’re suspending your benefits.”

“I don’t like you…” he says and she is pummeled and pricked by honesty, rolling one hundred miles an hour back through their last year, re-evaluating every touch, every flicker of attraction, wondering how the hell she could have misinterpreted her instincts so badly and almost flees, “…I love you.”

Forced into spirals of my own undoing, I rented a room and waited. They arrived, with no intention of leaving empty-handed. I played hard to get for, like, minutes, then handed it over. When they said I had to die, I muttered, “Sure. You too.” I trip the switch…. KABOOOOOOOM.

Paddy lived by the sword. He had a girl in every airport and six kids from four chicks. His best friends were his enemies’ enemies. Paddy would never negotiate. His face was thunder, his body was lightning but there was no eye of the storm.

In a blink, I’m middle-aged and you retort with the very scathing glaze I had for my parents. My time lapsed outnumbers my time remaining. My humour and ambition is dissolving and my face is falling. In a blink. So, don’t waste your precious days, my sons. And never blink.

My toddler locked himself in, so I smashed the bathroom window and squeezed in. The police showed and arrested me. I explained the misunderstanding and thought to present some documents. But I had none. Then my wife said she didn’t know who I was.